PS 3157 
.W247 
Copy 1 



THE BATTLE. 

BY OLAF WASSON. 
*rr 

YES, I was a trooper then, my boy, in that hot summer day, 

And I've heard the tales that old men tell, of struggle and foray ; 

I've read the burning histories of what brave men have done, 

Of battle and of carnage — of fields both lost and won. 

My years are running onward, I've been in many a strife ; 

I've seen, too, many a comrade give for his land his life ; 

And I know they tell in print more than any man can see, 

Or any single man may know, except the General he may be, 

For we each but take a little part, and that in smoke and din, 

And few can tell beyond the tale of just what happened him. 

We rode that summer morning, from off the school-house line, 

Three hundred and seventy men, all soldiers in our prime. 

We had been standing long "to horse," with the bridle in our hairls-, 

When a gallant aid came over with our General's first commands, — 

For he was then a youngster, and upon his shoulders bus 

Had only within few hours given place unto those stars 

Which, since that day, he has proudly worn for you, my boy, and me, 

And made his name a noble one in this land's history. 

Then our old, gray-headed Colonel, a soldier many a year, 

Bade the orderly bugler call every officer near ; 

And when the council ended, we knew there was work to do. 

Each horse was well inspected, from front strap to his shoe; 

Each strap was closely tested, each buckle fairly tried ; 

Each man examined honestly the pistol at his side. 

Hard work, my boy, makes horses tough, as well as soldiers, too, 

And very few were left behind from what we had to do ; 

We had some horses feeble, and some invalids, you see, 

TSar w~M /nimln Wade Hn moron's cavalrv through June, by old A Id if. 

But the murmuring was the strongest from those we left behind, 

For soldiers long together, boy, have but a single mind. 

" By fours " at length was sounded. It took us to the west, 

A regiment of cavalry as good as was the best. 

We'd heard the foe's guns sounding throughout the livelong day, 

And right toward the rearmost our column took its way, 

For you'll mind 'twas in a skirmish that this big fight began, 

And that we had kept Lee's cavalry toward the Rapidan. 

'Twas his foot-soldiers fought the fight the first and second day, 

And braver men were ne'er in line than were in that array. 

I've said I was a trooper, boy, yet still full well I know 

How well our foot companions can give or take a blow ; 

So all the tale that I may tell is only what I saw 

Upon that blood-hot summer day, when might took place of law. 

Near a Pennsylvania village a little woman stood, 

And told our brave old Colonel where the rebels took the wood. 

Then Cram, with his first squadron, was ordered to advance, 

While Balder took the main road — and then began the dance. 

But how the fight from there went on I really scarce can tell; 

We met six times our number, and many a good man fell. [man 

Balder sleeps in that country church-yard, and the old, gray-haired 

Was smitten sore with many a wound ; and all who could then ran. 

I lay beside a fence-rail, to keep from the horses' hoofs, 

And this bullet-mark on my right side is one of that day's proofs ; 

And I saw "ours" slowly falter, still yielding rood by rood, 

For it was folly then to hold a fight that did so little good. 

And when the night came down on us, we slept beneath a flag 

Which, in our better days of strength, we called a rebel rag. 

Our old, gray-headed Colonel (God makes few better men) 

Left his right arm to proveits worth within that carnage-pen. 

And of all the men who rode that day toward Gettysburg with me 

There was left the little moiety of only ten and three. 






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